


The Box

by Timebird84



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: Character Death, Execution, Gen, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timebird84/pseuds/Timebird84
Summary: Erik receives a mysterious package from the Shah's Palace ten years after he left Persia.
Relationships: Erik & Nadir Khan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Sad and depressing shit ahead, read at your own risk.
> 
> This oneshot is based on a prompt by @rumpelstiltskinned on Tumblr (you can find it at the end of the story).
> 
> Thanks a million to @ofbeautsandbeasts on Tumblr who did the correction of my English.

The box he held in his hands looked simple and yet Erik felt a high instinctive discomfort from watching it. His eyes were held captive by the letters that created his name and a title of his past, which he had wanted to forget for so long, in a script he had hoped never to see again. The smooth waves of foreign words, so different from the European alphabet.

Already the appearance of the man who had knocked on his door this morning while he had been sitting over the plans for his next project had brought back images Erik had tried to lock away in a dark corner of his soul that he never visited voluntarily. There he hid all those cruel and painful memories which were too hard to handle. Just sometimes the past hit him without warning. Just like today … with the carrier who had asked if he was Erik, also known as the Trapdoor Lover in Persia, and had given him the box after Erik had nodded silently, feeling an unpleasant strain inside his body. His face! For a second he had really believed it was Nadir who stood there in front of him in the doorway, a shock electrifying all his nerves for only a few seconds, before he had recalled that his old friend must have aged, too, in over ten years and that this man with the identical black beard and the same emerald eyes he saw now was much too young to be the Daroga he had once known. And if this realization hadn't been enough, certainly the man's voice had brought Erik back to the here and now.

"A gift from the Shah's Palace for you." , he had said.

Nothing more, he had merely given Erik the package, bowed slightly and was gone.

Erik still stood there, holding the box, the door in front of him closed again. He felt its weight. It was not heavy, but there was something inside it for sure. He sensed a huge antipathy when he thought about opening it. A gift from the Shah's Palace couldn't mean anything good. Seconds, maybe minutes passed, dripping like a viscous liquid from the big long case clock nearby before he finally managed to move himself to the chaise longue, where he sat down, the package on his bony thighs. He stared at it, recalling how he had left the Shah's realm. If Nadir hadn't have been there, he would never have been able to escape. His help alone was the reason Erik was still alive today. How many moments since then had he asked himself what had become of his dear and only friend, who had so selflessly risked his life to save the Angel of Doom from the Shah's remorseless hand? And how often had he repeated that one single moment of their last goodbye in his head? The goodbye which they both had known was a farewell forever. The goodbye which had confused him beyond words, even until today. The goodbye which had brought him to despair sometimes and to helplessness when he wondered about its significance … if there had actually been a secret message in it, a confession, something really important. There had been days of melancholy shrouding Erik's soul with silky black veils of what it might have been, while on other days he forbade himself to see any other meaning in it than the obvious: A farewell of two friends who had known they wouldn't see each other again. Naturally, it had been heartbreaking, but that was all – no hidden hints, no secret importance. And yet, since then until now, there had never been a single day where he hadn't been torn about it.

"Au revoir, mon ami.“ , Nadir's broken French still echoed inside his head, the sound of his voice saved forever in his memory.

He saw himself taking off his mask and cloak, handing them to the Daroga who had betrayed his country for him in that very moment. And the seconds that had followed – Something fleeting had forced them both to lock eyes, so many unspoken words lying at the bottoms of the deep lakes of emerald and amber. He remembered the feeling of fighting back tears and how they had stolen their way into his eyes anyway. How cramped Nadir's facial expression had been, truly desperate. The moderate breeze that had touched his unmasked, sunken cheeks, whispering stories from the Caspian Sea. Everything came back to him now, every single detail, as if he were looking through a window to the past. The memory was so clear as if he was right there, yet he knew he wasn't able to change it, aware of the metaphorical glass which time was itself, that separated him from the events that had taken place a decade ago. As always when those images haunted him, he asked himself what he would have changed if he had had the opportunity to do so, and if he would have changed anything.

When he had been about to turn away from Nadir to get on his horse, to leave those horrible Persian years behind him, the Daroga calling his name had stopped him. He had looked back into the emerald eyes, questions in his own. And in the next moment Nadir's hand had been in his hair, gently forcing his head to bow down a bit, and Nadir's forehead pressed desperately against the cold, awful skin of his death-like skull. Erik hadn't known what was happening, surprise had hustled him so hard in the ruthless arms of disbelief that had made him unable to move or react at all.

"You have become much more to me than a friend." Nadir's warm breath had caressed the deformed structures of his face.

The Persian words had crawled into his ears to infect his whole body, to conquer his soul within a fraction of a second. Long before Erik himself had understood them completely, his subconscious had already gotten the significance of them. But in any case, he had not had the time to process them for in the next moment, soft lips had kissed his forehead. Their tender touch had not been more than a fleeting idea on his rotten skin and yet Erik would never forget how it had felt. But so unexpectedly and fast the whole scene had hit him, it was over, and he had to face Nadir's eyes again as if there had never been any bodily contact between them.

"Go, Erik. Be careful and never forget the chance I offered you today. Do something good with your life and erase Persia from your heart."

In the next moment he had been on his horse, giving it his heels and had ridden away without a backward glance. Erik had remained a while, the sandy dunes behind him, watching Nadir disappear until his eyes hadn't been able to find him anymore against the horizon. Confusion in his bones and mind mingled in a strange embrace with the sadness that had taken possession of his soul.

More than ten years since then and Erik still brooded over the meaning of Nadir's confession and what his intention had been to give it to him. Love – he couldn't deny the thought had come to him more than once, but in the same way it seemed plausible, it also seemed absurd beyond words – actually ridiculous! Yet he kept agonizing, knowing in the end nothing would change anything, because time had closed this book long ago. And he himself? What feelings did he himself hold for his dear friend? He wasn't able to name them since he had never sensed them for anyone else in his whole life. He was thankful and he missed him, longed for talks with him, his likable laughter, his anger when he had teased him. He yearned for him in a way he couldn't describe – still, after all those years and miles between them. If Erik had known how love felt, perhaps he would have been brave enough to accept that to him, too, Nadir had become much more to him than a friend during the Rosy Hours of Mazandaran.

Suddenly, he became aware of the box in his lap again, its weight for some reason now seemed heavier than minutes earlier. Erik swallowed. Mechanically, his hands started to open it before he had even decided to do so. Within it he found another box made of wood framed with iron, ornately decorated with complex carvings. Erik's heart sped up, why he couldn't have said. Trembling fingers, comparable to bony branches, loosened the two locks that kept the little casket closed. The sound when they opened was unnaturally loud in the silent room which was only dimly enlivened by the ticking of the big clock. He felt a strong urge to stop his hands from finishing their task, to not get to know what secret the box held, but his fingers lifted the lid without his permission …

Red velvet was the first thing he saw, obviously it covered something. But before Erik could figure out what, a note written in Persian letters on the interior of the cask cover caught his attention. The most precious thing you can own is the heart of someone else it said in the first line and below: and treason the biggest crime you can commit. An awful feeling with no name started to invade his body like thousands of tiny insects gnawing on his guts. Nadir was already in his mind, but he himself wasn't yet aware of that fact right now. He felt his heart beating unnaturally hard against his ribs as if they were the only border which kept it inside his chest. His eyes sank down to the luxurious cloth and more than ever he didn't want to know what it hid. Nevertheless, forefingers and thumbs carefully began to unfold it and soon encountered a small object. And every movement came to a halt when Erik recognized what it was ...

"I want you to have it."

Nadir had shaken his head at hearing these words, his glance focused on the ring which Erik had just taken off of his bony finger. "You can't give that to me, it's a personal gift from the Shah to you."

A scoffing noise had filled the cozy room in the Daroga's home, the skeleton hand remaining outstretched, offering the little piece of jewelry. Eyes had locked for an enduring moment of silence.

"Why?" The bearded man had finally asked, appearing insecure.

"Why?" Erik had repeated, hadn't it been obvious? "For letting me stay here, for taking care of me when I needed it the most … for not letting me die, Daroga …"

He had been sure Nadir was going to tell him something about the hospitality and the helpfulness of the Muslim people, how it was natural, but he hadn't done it. He had simply stared at the ring that Erik's bony fingers had held in his direction, processing Erik's words which in the end hadn't seemed to be able to convince him to take the gift.

"Dammit, you stubborn Persian!" Erik had cursed and added, "To show you the gratefulness of … of a friend …"

The Daroga's eyes had twitched upward to his own in surprise. Facing his glance had forced Erik to swallow before he could have managed to end his sentence.

"– Of a friend who will never forget what you have done for him, who learned the meaning of friendship solely because you have been there to teach him."

Something within the emeralds which still clung to Erik's face had changed while he'd listened to the words. He had even had to blink once, twice, his lids fluttering uncontrollably though only for a fleeting second. Then he had stared back again, straight, serious, deeply moved and finally after a while, which seemed like an eternity, he had reached out and taken the ring from Erik's offering hand with an indescribable appreciation. His fingers closed to a fist to shelter the precious treasure.

"I will always cherish and keep it with me until the day I die."

Erik had never seen the ring again, neither on Nadir's finger – for obvious reasons, the Shah would have recognized it immediately, as it was absolutely unique, created solely to adorn Erik's finger alone, and the consequences would have been awful – nor anywhere else. But he had never doubted that the Daroga had kept this gift which had been given to him in deepest friendship and that he had been true to his promise. And this was why horror now started to crawl up Erik's legs, cold as ice. Staring at it resting on the first layer of the red velvet, he could recognize this ring in all its inimitability: A snake made of silver, beautifully designed with so many intricate details, twisting itself around a ruby. Nadir's thankful voice speaking the words Keep it with me until the day I die haunted Erik's mind while an inexorable deadness infected his whole body and soul. The proof that this day had come laid exposed before his eyes. A lump formed in his throat, the breathing suddenly felt difficult as if an invisible weight was pressed against his chest and his fingers began to tremble. Nadir was dead and to that point it was the only thought that could exist within his emotional chaos. The circumstances of how he came to know this fact and what it meant – that his friend's life probably hadn't found a natural end – couldn't find their way now into Erik's comprehension.

His suddenly teary eyes peered absently into the box without really fixing on anything, his heart heavy as stone. It was then that he became aware that the piece of jewelry was not the only thing the box contained. Beneath it was a bulge which had functioned as some sort of resting place for it, still not unveiled, because another layer of cloth hid it. How could he not have seen it before? Erik took the ring, closing his bony fingers around it, when he recognized the bottom of the casket had stains near the last secret held within, which were wet and a deeper red than the color of the velvet covering it. The grip of his fist got tighter, while his other hand mechanically unfolded the source of what, without doubt, was blood. In another situation Erik might not have been so certain of that, but now he was so convinced and deep inside of him, this knowledge caused an unbearable fear. And then he revealed the true gift the Shah's Palace had sent to him and what he found made all the clocks in the world pause. As if time itself stopped in that very moment, his gaze was held captive by what he saw, frozen, compelled by invisible powers to stare. Noises and colors around faded and paled and seemed at last to disappear completely from this room where the only two existing things were he himself and the box on his lap. Realization and understanding came slowly, step by step, feeling no different than a nightmare creeping out of the dark abyss of sleep and coming to life in the real world. What laid before him on red velvet was something organic, an internal organ, a heart … a … human heart. And as the very last part of this chain reaction of comprehension horror hit him without mercy, forcefully and painfully, it took his breath away as if someone had kicked him right in the stomach – Nadir's heart! Too many feelings came crashing down on him like an ocean devouring a sinking ship. Erik's muscles started to tremble as an urgent feeling of panic invaded his whole body. The trembling became so intense that the box almost fell from his legs. In the last second he grabbed it desperately, unable to bear the thought of its contents hitting the ground. His hands clung to the casket much tighter than necessary to keep it from falling and Erik started to weep, overwhelmed by his feelings, not even realizing his hand had lost the ring when it had snatched the box. His quiet grieving turned into loud sobs that would have broken the heart of anyone listening to them. Pain colored the sound of his crying and distorted it so badly it was hardly recognizable as something human. It filled the silent house with a horrible music of lament. The sheer torture of it took all his strength away, and he leeched onto the box like a desperate, lost child trying to hold onto something that was long gone. He embraced it while he bent down over it. Weakness and despair let him finally glide from the chaise longue onto his knees, where he doubled over in cramped sobs, his masked forehead touching the ground, the lifeless heart sheltered by his body between floor and chest.

He remained a long while like that, grieving and weeping slowly, expending his last energy until nothing was left. In the end it was actually exhaustion that made him stop crying. He rolled onto his side, the casket in his arms like a dead baby for whom he was mourning. He felt empty, lost in the desert again just like that day he had watched Nadir disappear into the horizon, knowing he would never see him again, but this time it was different and it was hard to be aware of the reason why. He took several deep breaths and was finally able to catch a clear thought again. His body was aching from the energy-sapping sobs and so was his heart right down to the deepest core of his soul when full comprehension hit him like a hammer. He had always known he wouldn't see Nadir again in his life, but it had been alright so long as he could have believed his friend lived on somewhere far away, maybe with a new family at his side. It was something completely different to hold the undeniable proof in his hands that told him he was definitely dead. It changed everything. It made the world hollow, not only himself. Knowing he was gone forever cut a deep wound into Erik's heart from which he would never recover … And then something else seeped into his mind like the silent effect of a poison: He had had to die because he had saved Erik's pathetic existence. Not because he had been old and fallen into the caring arms of an endless, peaceful sleep after a full life of love and honor. No. The casket, the contents, the text inscribed in its lid – it all had just one objective: To let him know that Erik and only Erik was to blame for the death of the former Daroga of Mazandaran who had betrayed his country for him. Why now? Why ten years after he had left that awful place? Had it taken them so long to figure out Nadir had helped him? Or had he kept silent, bearing the tortures for all these years until he had finally spoken, because he had simply reached the limits of his pain tolerance? Or – and this thought threw a tiny little spark into Erik's ash of anger which he had presumed cold and dusty – They had waited so long on purpose. To ambush him completely unexpectedly, an eternity after he had stopped thinking about the Shah and his family, after he had finally managed to not so much forget, but to at least fade them out most of the time. Ten years to show the power they still had over him, ten years to pull him down once more into the merciless abyss of that Persian hell. He had to admit now that, if all these suspicions had truly been the intention behind the sending of the box, they hadn't gone astray.

The quivering in his muscles came back, and so did life into his body, but now for other reasons than before. Hot rage started to flare inside his guts. But it finally gave him back the strength to sit up again, his eyes full of horror and unbearable despair immediately fixated on the heart again. And then the penny dropped – without warning, without a reason why now – The blood leaking from it was fresh, still wet, no signs of drying out and … the organ itself was fresh, recognizable by its color and surface, he stared at it – it definitely hadn't made it all the way from Persia inside this casket to reach him. Erik from one second to another felt nauseous, fighting the sudden strong urge to throw up. The realization of the cruelty of the Shah … or his mother – the longer Erik thought about it the more probable it seemed it had been her sinister plan – waved over him like an ocean of terror. Vivid images started to haunt him while he, deep inside his heart, knew they were all true: Nadir had been forced all the long, arduous way from Persia to Belgium only to die here for his treason, so close to Erik, to make the vileness of this story complete. Had Erik slept in his bed while they had executed Nadir right in front of his door? Read a book, played the violin, worked? It felt like he had had the chance to avoid it all and had missed it while living his everyday life. The feeling of guilt would never leave him again. And he didn't doubt for a second this was the one of the goals for which whomever sent the box had been striving. It all made an unspeakably terrible sense now. Erik remembered the written letters on the package, only his name and former title, no address … The man who had brought it … It had been no accident he looked highly like Nadir had looked ten years ago. All the details carefully chosen to make the devilish game perfect. Anger washed the despair away, at least for now. Erik's fingers clawed painfully into the wood of the casket, his whole body trembling from his rising rage. His teeth were clenched together so hard they could have cracked a bone if there had been one between them. There was a fire burning inside him now and it was consuming him beyond all logic or rationality. They would pay for this. They would pay for this in the cruelest way imaginable. He didn't care if it would cost his life. Nadir had given his for him and he was ready to give his own for his friend. It didn't matter how unwinnable his quest for revenge was. All he knew was he would go back to Persia, no matter how long it took, no matter how dangerous it was. He would go back there and they would pay for this – and that was all that mattered. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the prompt by @rumpeltstiltskinned on Tumblr:
> 
> What if the Khanum found out Nadir had helped Erik to leave Persia and figured out where Erik lives and instead of sending someone to kill him, she decides to send him Nadir's head in a box. Possibly with a silly pun, to add insult to injury, like "Shame this man lost his head over you." - Alternatively, she sends his heart (maybe with a message like “this is the only way you will ever be able to hold someone’s heart”).


End file.
